Smokin' Deuces
by LovinJackson
Summary: An act of teenage rebellion almost causes dire consequences for Dean and Caleb.


**Smokin' Deuces**

**Author: **Tara aka LovinJackson

**Summary:** An act of teenage rebellion almost causes dire consequences for Dean and Caleb.

**Disclaimer:** Kripke owns Supernatural and Ridley C. James owns the Brotherhood. I'm just borrowing.

**A/N1:** Hey guys. I know I mentioned the fic with **Gaelicspirit** that is going to be written next. That is still coming but I wrote this on a whim to get my muse flowing last week. I think it worked, so that's a plus for me. This was written with a friend's birthday in mind **(Happy Birthday, alwaysateen, your present will be late so I'm hoping this will make up for that)** and the original idea came from a email question/discussion with **Ridley** that I wasn't even sure would actually get written.

That said, I would like to thank **Ridley** for her valuable input and opinion. And of course **Angelustatt** and my **Mum** helped as well :) Thanks guys! All remaining mistakes and typos are my own fault ;)

Now onto the story …

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**Smokin' Deuces**

The axe slammed into the wood again, causing it to splinter as the sharp blade got stuck in the thick trunk once more. Two smaller pieces of wood fell on either side of the axe, now embedded where it once perched.

It was getting hotter; it had to be getting hotter. The air felt stuffy around him, the sun beating down on his forehead. His long hair doing more for skin protection than fashion statement as the back of his neck went unscathed from the sun's bite.

Caleb wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, his hand coming away completely dry. He groaned, and leant forward, allowing his hot forehead rest where both his hands where now clutched to the end of the axe handle. He could have just laid down right there, soaked up the sun and fallen asleep. He was tired enough. The only thing that stopped the sixteen year old was the possibility of heatstroke that lying in the sun all day would cause … and John Winchester's wrath. This was a punishment.

If he concentrated, Caleb could still smell the burnt wood and hay from inside the barn. The terrifying fear when he realised who had been inside when the fire had burst into terrifying flames, and the accompanying guilt he had felt knowing how it had all come to be in the first place.

His black t-shirt felt overheated on his skin as he panted, hunched over the axe, his head thumping to the rapid beating of his heart. Man, he had a killer headache.

He glanced up and took in the sight of the mountain of firewood he had stacked neatly. The hot summer air between Caleb and the wood wavered and shimmered for a second and the young psychic wasn't sure if it was his own tired mind or if it was actually _that_ hot outside. For a second he thought the stack was in flames, panic hit his chest a second before the fire disappeared and Caleb was left looking at unmarred firewood. He shook his head. He was seeing things now?

Caleb grinned dopily to himself and then pushed against the handle of the axe to right himself again. He wasn't finished until he had finished the remaining timber. John had told him not to come back inside until he had finished and he had made it quite clear that disobeying that order would bring more serious repercussions.

John Winchester had turned from father to irate drill sergeant in what seemed like seconds. Although now it all kind of meshed together. The irate drill sergeant was mixed with the scared to death father Caleb had created with one mistake.

Caleb placed his booted foot against the tree stump he was using for a wood chopping platform and re-adjusted his grip on the axe handle … and then pulled. The damn thing wouldn't budge. Caleb grunted with effort. He felt like he was some unimportant moron trying to pull the sword from the stone. Apparently he was no King-Fucking-Arthur because the axe wasn't moving at all.

Standing back, Caleb leaned forward and rested his hands on his jean clad knees. His chest heaved up and down. The air was hot and stuffy around him and was making it all the harder to breathe. It crossed his mind to take a break, to go inside but that thought was immediately pushed aside by his guilt and the memory of John's disappointed stare.

"Suck … it … up, soldier," Caleb groused to himself in panted breath.

After a few failed attempts against dizziness that Caleb deducted came from standing up too fast, the teen straightened up and took his earlier position against the trunk and its captive axe. He flexed his fingers around the wooden handle and mentally counted to three.

"Hi Caleb!"

The unexpected high-pitched voice of the miniature Winchester caught Caleb off guard. Dry hands slipped on the smooth wooden handle and Caleb let a startled cry escape as he stumbled back and lost his balance. The fall to the ground was quick and slow at the same time but all came to the same crashing end as his head connected with something hard.

**The Day before …**

"Whatcha doing?" Sam asked, standing as close as he could to Caleb, casting a shadow over the book the teen had been reading.

The psychic looked up, one eyebrow raised to no effect – Sam took no notice. "What does it look like I'm doin' runt?"

Sam cocked his small shaggy head to the side and looked up and then returned his gaze to the older boy. "Readin'"

"Exactly genius, now go away." Caleb shoved the boy lightly out of his personal space. Four year olds might be small but they sure knew how to take up a lot of space when they wanted to.

"Why?" Sam was not to be deterred – damn stubborn Winchester gene held strong from birth apparently.

"Because, Sammy, I'm trying to read and I can't do it while you're blocking my light."

"If I leave you alone can I have your pie?"

Caleb frowned, briefly remembering Jim telling them about the apple pie he had been planning on making for dessert. Negotiation or blackmail was also a skill learnt young in the Winchesters apparently. "What? No, now move it, Runt."

"Nuh ah…" Sam shook his head and proceeded to climb up on the arm of the chair.

Caleb sighed and snapped his book closed. He wasn't getting anymore reading done. Going out for the day was looking more and more appealing. It was summer. He was supposed to be on holidays … yeah, going to town was looking much better than babysitting a blackmailing midget.

Tossing the book on the coffee table, the older boy dragged Sam onto his lap and went about tickling the kid mercilessly. Sam squirmed and squealed with uncontrollable laughter, trying with all his might to stop the trailing of Caleb's fingers over his ribs.

"ST..OP … C-Caleb!!"

"Sorry?" Caleb asked in a mocking tone, a mischievous grin appearing on his face. "I can't hear you."

Caleb attacked Sam's small neck with his fingers sending the youngster into another fit of laughter. The teen allowed himself a small laugh as well and then stood, juggling the small mess of arms and legs. He wrapped his arm around the kid's legs and then let him dangle, Sam hiccuping in continuous laughter.

"Let me down …" he giggled.

"Do I get to keep my pie?" Caleb asked, even though there was no way he was ever giving up Jim's famous apple pie, no matter how fond he was of the devious little shit.

There was a couple of seconds of silence followed by a high-pitched shout. "NO!"

"Ah … looks like I have no choice then." Caleb smirked and ran his fingers over Sam's exposed stomach as his t-shirt had ridden up. Sam shrieked and laughed - the noise filling the house.

The front door opened and Caleb swung around with Sam still upside down in his arms, gulping for air and giggling with delight. The Triad walked through the door one after another, Jim and Mac first and then followed by John last. All three stopped just inside the door staring at the sight before them. John was the first to speak up.

"What are you doing to my son?"

"We're in the middle of a business deal," Caleb deadpanned, trying not to let the smile get too big. He was enjoying this horse play a little too much. It really ruined the image he had been making for himself at school.

John pursed his lips and then shook his head. "That the way you handle all business transactions?"

"No … the midget just has special needs," Caleb quipped.

"I'm not a midget!" Sam disagreed indignantly.

"Son, put him down, he's going red," Mackland told him as he made his way past Jim and John and to the kitchen.

Caleb jerked and looked down at his small upside down charge. He grunted as he swung Sam up so that the kid was sitting against his hip, his cheeks flushed red.

John walked over and plucked his son from Caleb's arms and placed the child on the floor, ruffling his hair. "Keeping Caleb busy, kiddo?"

"Yep!" Sam proclaimed loudly. "And Caleb promised me his piece of pie."

Sam slipped out of Caleb's reach and around John before the psychic had a chance to grab him again. He giggled as he ran for the back door and pushed open the screen door, happily running outside.

"Handing over your share of pie is very generous, my boy," Pastor Jim smirked, coming to sit down on the couch, picking up the book Caleb had been trying to read, glancing at the title and then placing it back on the table.

"Yeah," Caleb snorted. "Sam's in for a nice surprise because I aint giving up my share for anyone."

Jim chuckled and relaxed back onto his couch as Mac came back in with a tray of drinks, placing it on the table next to the book. "Thank you, Mackland."

Mac took a seat beside the priest and looked up at Caleb and John who remained standing. He then looked around the room, his face contorting with curiosity. "Where's Dean?"

Caleb shrugged. "I haven't seen him since you left for town," he admitted.

Truth was, ever since they had all gotten back from New York; Dean had been scarce, like Caleb's usual shadow had been avoiding him. He had a feeling as to why. Dean was annoyed with him; in fact he had been angry with him and trying not to show it.

Despite their age difference Dean was his best friend, but was it so much to ask to want to socialize with some people his own age? Mac had wanted him to make some friends in this school, something Caleb never went out of his way to do and when he had actually tried Dean hadn't appreciated being fobbed off for a bunch of High School dickheads. If the Winchesters hadn't of made a surprise visit to the Ames abode in the last week of school this situation would have never happened. But School was over and he was going to be at the farm all fucking summer … he would make it up to the kid.

"I think he headed to the barn. He mumbled something about the horses," Caleb told them looking down at his watch and realising just how late in the afternoon it was. He hadn't seen Dean since breakfast.

"You don't know?" John questioned, hands coming to rest on his hips, his attention briefly stolen by the sudden barking that had taken up outside.

_Fear, jolted, free-falling …._

"Son?" Caleb blinked at his father and then at John. The feelings had caught him off guard. Dean's panic had come through before he'd even had the chance to reach out himself.

"Caleb …" John began, grabbing his arm as the back door opened and tornado Sammy rushed into the living room grabbing John's arm, pulling at it wildly. "Daddy! Come!"

"Sammy, what is it?" John asked, kneeling down to meet Sam's eyes as Mac and Jim stood in anticipation.

"Fire." The word was out of his mouth without him even realising it and Caleb's eyes looked in the direction of the window as Mac rushed past him and into the kitchen.

"Dean …" Sam gasped in panic. Barking could still be heard outside, loud and insistent. "Daddy, you have to come! He's hurt! I surprised him in the barn and he dropped his lighter and fell ….Come on!" Sam pulled out of John's grip and raced for the door, almost running into Mac who had returned with a fire extinguisher and didn't wait to see if he was being followed.

Caleb's stomach dropped and he paled. He'd been so busy doing his own thing that he hadn't even thought about where Dean was, only that he had peace and quiet … and what the hell was the kid doing in the barn with a lighter?

Caleb followed hot on Sam's heels, Atticus bounding beside them, barking just in case the human's hadn't got the urgency. All the what-ifs bouncing around in the teen's mind came to a spiralling stop as the barn came into view. Smoke billowed out of the slightly opened large double doors. Atticus nipped at his jeans, the golden retriever's way of telling him to hurry the fuck up.

"Dean!" John yelled as he ran past Caleb at a speed that he hadn't seen the older man use in a long time.

Caleb jolted out of his frozen state and sprinted after them, skidding to a stop at the door. John had surged forward without thought, into the smoke. Caleb followed instantly; covering his mouth and nose by the crook of his arm. He briefly hoped that someone had the sense of mind to make sure Sam didn't follow them because the kid would if his big brother was inside.

Caleb heard the whoosh of the flames before he saw them ignite into a bigger monster, lighting the heavy smoke around them. "Deuce!" Caleb called, blinking rapidly as the smoke stung his eyes. Instead of getting an answer back from his young friend, a couple of geese rampaged past him, clearly not happy and Atticus continued to bark urgently from outside.

"Deuce!" He called again. I was amazing how such a small space could seem like a never ending cavern when it was filled with thick smoke.

The horses whinnied and kicked in their stalls obviously distressed. The commotion had done nothing for the other animals that made the barn their home. A chicken flapped into him clucking in a high shrill of terror and Caleb almost ended up losing his balance to avoid stepping on it. Hay floated through the air as more chickens escaped their roosts and made a hasty retreat. The barn looked more like a hellish war zone than the comforting escape it usually was.

Hay and flames exploded from one of the bales and the psychic flinched and tried to cover himself from the heat. But that was when he saw them. Over by the fiery bales stacked by the wall he saw a figure leaning over a smaller one. Surging forward he made it to the pair in no time, sliding to his knees next to his best friend. At least he was moving. Caleb recoiled as the fire licked and spat at them. "Is he okay?!!" Caleb shouted over the fires roar.

"M'fine…" Dean half slurred in a barely audible voice.

"Get out of here!" John shouted back, putting something in his pocket before grabbing Dean by his arm and quickly and effortlessly slinging him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. As the older man went to run he gripped Caleb's shirt and pulled the teen to his feet and dragged him along.

Caleb tripped once and then steadied on his feet; keeping up with John's hurried pace. As they ran out Mac was already standing there armed with Jim's fire extinguisher. "Go!" he ordered, eyes meeting Caleb's directly. Holding the hose out in the direction of the fire, Mac pressed down on the lever, expelling the white snow like fire killer over the flames.

Jim was at the horse stalls, one which was already empty. Leaving Mac and Jim to deal with the fire and the animals, Caleb found himself breathing in fresh summer air as he exited the barn at a run. His knees hit the ground as he skidded to a stop beside Dean and John – all three of them coughing the smoke from their lungs.

Fat Chance galloped out of the barn and right past them, stopping by One in a Million, his head moving up and down in an irritated gesture. Chicken's clucked around them in a frenzy of feathers, their squawking almost a demand to know what had happened.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry," Sam cried, his eyes wide with fear as he came closer.

"I'm okay," Dean tried to assure, his eyes watering from their exposure to the smoke.

"No you're not, Deuce." Dean was pale and blood trickled from a small cut in his hair line and he seemed to be having trouble breathing through his lungs need to expel the smoke. He didn't look alright at all.

"I'm sorry," Sam started again, distraught. It was almost hard to hear him over the constant barking coming from the loyal retriever still waiting for his master to come out of the barn. But nothing could mistake the tears running down his face.

"It's not your fault, Sammy," John answered in a gruff tone. "Atticus! Enough!" he growled at the dog, his eyes never leaving Dean's face as he ran his fingers over his son's body looking for injuries before ending up at the lump already forming on the kid's head.

Atticus barked once more and then huffed at being told to shut up or having to wait for Jim to return … it wasn't all that clear. He didn't have to wait long as Jim came out of the barn, coughing a little.

The preacher bent down to ran his hands over Atticus' head and then walked over to the small group. He held up the fire extinguisher Mac had been using and nodded to John. "Fire's out. How's our boy?"

Sam ran up to the pastor in tears. Jim picked him up as Sam cried about the lack of baby chickens or something. It was hard to tell when the most of what Sam said had been muffled in Pastor Jim's shirt.

Dean squirmed under John's inspection. "Dad …" he coughed. "Dad, get off me. I'm fine, Pastor Jim."

"Deuce, stay still."

"Shut up, Damien."

John grabbed Dean by the shoulders and made the boy look at him. "What the hell were you doing, Dean?"

"I … it was an accident."

John's frown deepened and he took his hands off Dean to rip the nearly empty packet of cigarettes out of his front shirt pocket. "These just happened to find their way into your possession? They just happen to light themselves?"

Caleb felt frozen as his attention switched from Dean's pale face to the packet in John's hands. He recognised it. It had been in his backpack only that morning. He had assumed it was still in there. Everything was starting to make sense.

"Answer me, Dean," John demanded.

Mac chose that moment to join them. Caleb looked back and watched as his father walked towards them juggling a handful of something, yellow, little, fluffy … and noisy. Mac cheeped all the way over to them, a little yellow head popped out of Mac's front shirt pocket. He would have laughed at the sight of his father all dishevelled, hay in his messed hair and housing fluffy little creatures. He would have laughed … if he and Deuce hadn't been in the direct line of John's fire.

Jim placed Sam back on the ground and the kid ran to Mac, hiccupping away the last tear as the doctor handed Sam one of the chicks.

"I …" Dean tried again, bringing Caleb back to the moment at hand. The chicks had survived so far … but would he and Deuce?

"They're mine." Caleb admitted. He hadn't even decided he was going to speak, hadn't realised he had spoken the words out loud until everyone's gazes landed on him. The weight of their stares was heavy.

"What did you say?" the voice came from behind him and belonged to Mac. Caleb slumped a little at the utter surprise in his father's voice.

He swallowed hard but kept the eye contact he was still holding with John. "They're mine. I had them in my backpack still from school … I'm sorry."

"Damien didn't …" A cough ripped through Dean's small body again before he could continue. "Damien didn't force me to take them."

"They shouldn't have been there for you to take," Caleb argued back.

"Both of you shut up," John ordered, the anger in his voice barely contained. Atticus whined and stood next to Pastor Jim's leg.

The fire in John's eyes seemed much hotter than the fire they had just saved Dean from and Caleb had thoughts of grabbing Dean and heading for the hills. But it wouldn't work. John was the best hunter he knew and he would find them. Besides, he wasn't a pussy. This was his fault and he would face the damn firing squad for it.

"Maybe we should take this to the house, have Mackland check Dean over and go from there," Jim suggested.

John nodded, glancing up at Jim and Mackland before resting his gaze back on Caleb. "Go. Now. In the house! I want you sitting at the fucking kitchen table when I get in there."

Caleb didn't hesitate. He nodded briefly at his friend, who was looking up at him with wide green eyes, and then stood and took off towards the house, Atticus at his heals. Caleb slipped through the door, blocking the Golden Retriever's entrance with his own body and shutting the door behind him. He appreciated the show of support but he didn't want company right now.

Only a few seconds after he seated himself at the kitchen table, the door opened and Caleb tensed until the heavy footsteps he expected didn't come. Instead a wet nose found itself under the hand he'd had resting under his leg and a chair scraped across the floor. Caleb looked down to see Atticus looking up at him. The teen sighed and rubbed the dog behind the ear.

Sam sat at the table. He'd obviously let the dog in and was sitting there staring at Caleb in silence. Evidence of his earlier fearful tears was still on his face and one chick from the barn still safely in his hands.

"I'd take cover in your room if I were you, runt."

Sam shook his head, looking too solemn for his age. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble, Caleb."

Caleb was confused. "How did you get me in trouble?"

"I scared Dean up in the loft and he fell … that's how the fire happened." As he spoke, Sam lightly stroked the chick's head with one tiny finger.

Caleb sighed and reached over and squeezed Sam's shoulder. "You got nothing to be sorry for, kid. This is all on me."

"I'm still sorry. Now you're both in trouble."

"I know." Now Dean was in trouble for something that Caleb had started. Sure Dean should have been smart enough not to make Caleb's foolish mistakes but that didn't make this any less Caleb's fault in the grand scheme of things. Regardless of what Caleb and Sam thought about this, John was still going to kick both of their asses.

"I'm sorry, Caleb … I'm sorry …"

**Present time ….**

"I'm sorry, Caleb …"

"Sammy, stand back and let Mac look after him. Dean, you too."

"Okay. Come on, Sammy."

Caleb frowned as people moved about around him. Different voices, yet all familiar talked around him and he was hot … and cold. That didn't make sense. His chest rose and fell a little faster the more he became aware. He rolled his head towards the voices and felt something cool press against his face.

"Son, can you hear me?"

"Hmm…" Caleb tried to talk. Mac sounded worried but his tongue felt thick in his mouth making it hard to articulate much of anything.

"Caleb, open your eyes." That was a different voice. There was an order in the tone … it was a voice that now resonated in his head whenever he needed his ass kicked into motion. "I know you can hear me, Junior. Open your fucking eyes before you give your old man a coronary."

Yep. That was John Winchester alright. Caleb's forehead creased for a second as he tried to work out how he had landed himself in this land of disembodied voices. He smoothed his features out pretty quickly as the tightness of his skin made itself apparent. What felt like a soft sponge, ran itself across his forehead in a slow motion, cooling the fire and tightness of his skin for a few precious seconds.

"John, take the advice you gave your children and move back. Give him some space," Mac told him, obviously irritated with the Knight. "Caleb, open your eyes, son."

The tight skin around his eyes all shouted their displeasure as Caleb tried to do what they wanted. One eye pried itself open before the other and then both fell shut again and he groaned. He forced his eyes opened again and blinked against the artificial light from the bathroom he shared with the boys and the imposing blurry figures of the Knight and Scholar peering down at him expectantly. "I'm … h-here."

"We can see that, Kid. You're glowing," John greeted.

"Huh?" How could he be equally hot and cold at the same time? He shifted and the cool water around him splashed. He looked down to see he was lying in the tub with only his boxers on. There was that to be grateful for. He hadn't woken up to losing all of his dignity.

"It's okay, son. You're gonna be fine." An Icy touch met along his shoulder and arm and Caleb jumped at the contact. "It's just ice wrapped in a towel to help cool you down."

"What … what happened?" Caleb asked. He didn't know whether to flinch from the icy touch or relish in it saving him from the heat of his skin for a few seconds.

"Sam found you out by the barn. You passed out," Mac explained.

"And managed to get yourself a case of sunstroke with a side order of nasty sunburn," John finished for his friend. "What the hell were you thinking, Caleb?"

"I was doing what you told me to."

"What?" John demanded, frowning at the implication that Caleb was blaming him for this.

"For Deuce … the whole smoking thing ..." Caleb explained not being able to refrain from the moan of relief as Mac passed the sponge over his forehead again.

"Dude … you really think I wanted you hurt?" John asked and Caleb looked up at him. His mentor actually looked worried. "Yes, you deserve a swift kick up the ass, for being an idiot, and you might think I'm an ass but my punishments aren't designed to kill. You scared the crap out of me, Kid, not to mention the boys."

"I'm … sorry…" And Caleb meant it. What he saw in John's eyes was similar to the look they had held when he'd gotten Dean out of the barn. He'd truly scared the older man. "I didn't mean to scare any of you."

"Don't do it again."

Caleb held John's gaze and nodded. "Yes sir."

"Good." John went to reach forward to and squeeze Caleb's arm but stopped just in time, remembering the sunburn, and patted Mac on his shoulder instead. "I'll leave you guys to it."

Mac waited until John had left the room before he addressed his son. "How are you feeling?"

"Like Pastor Jim's famous fried c-chicken," Caleb admitted. He tried to sit up a bit more in the tub. "Ow …"

"Take it easy, son. You're going to be uncomfortable for a while now." Mac helped him up a little. "Give it another five minutes and you could probably go lie down on your bed." Caleb knew that he wasn't going to escape his father's critical eye anytime soon. Usually if he could avoid Mac knowing about any small problems, he could avoid the mother hen routine but once the cat was out of the bag the father merged with the doctor and there was no stopping him. "Sit here and I'll go and get your bed ready."

"Not goin' anywhere, Dad." He smiled up at his father and then watched as the man hurried out of the room. He could hear him talking to the boys as he went on his way but it was muffled and he couldn't make out the words. He knew Mac was working himself up to a lecture … he had a lot to be disappointed about.

His skin was hot and a headache beat behind his brow. He reached over carefully and plucked the ice-filled towel and rested on his bare heated chest. He sighed in relief at the instant chill that spread out. Maybe he could live in the large freezer at the diner in town for a week or two. For now he had to settle for the lukewarm water surrounding most of his body. Caleb sunk down lower in the tub, trying to make sure the water covered past his shoulders. Either he was growing or the bathtub was shrinking. Come to think of it when was the last time he'd had a bath?

"You okay?"

The new voice interrupted is random thoughts and Caleb glanced over to the doorway. Dean was standing there, leaning against the door frame like he wasn't sure whether he should venture into the bathroom. Caleb was glad to see the kid. He grinned and then winced as the motion pulled on the taut skin of his face. He'd really done a number on himself.

"I'm fine. Get your ass in here."

Once the invitation had been given Dean wasted no time in claiming Mac's chair. He had a small butterfly clip just on his hair line where he had hit his head but his colour looked better than the last time he had seen him. Dean had been kept busy doing his own John-enforced punishment since the smoking incident.

"You look really red," Dean observed with a frown.

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the newsflash, Captain Obvious."

"You really scared Sammy out there, Damien."

"Just Sammy, huh?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe me too."

"Nice to know you care, Deuce," Caleb commented dryly. "You wanna explain to me what you were doing smoking in the barn?"

"Not really."

"How about you give it a shot anyway?" Dean looked away, out to the door, stalling for time. "Deuce?"

The eight year old turned back and shrugged again. It was something he was making a habit of lately. "You didn't want anything to do with me when you were around your friends, I just … I just thought maybe if I could do the things they could then maybe I wouldn't be so lame to hang out with."

It was like pulling teeth – getting that answer from the boy. Pride was battling with the request for the truth. But the honesty that broke through made Caleb feel worse. He had been a jerk. "Dude, you're not lame to hang out with and FYI? You're not the only one here in trouble for smoking. Not one of my brightest moments."

"It tastes like crap," Dean agreed. He placed both hands on either side of him on the chair and swung his legs. "And smells."

He wasn't wrong. He didn't get the appeal and he was kinda disappointed in himself for actually allowing himself to be talked into trying it. Mac would call it Peer Pressure - whatever. Even when he had been accepted by those guys he hadn't felt he belonged. The small amount of students he had gotten along with at that school were much cooler than those jocks. _Dean_ was much cooler than those jocks … hell, Sammy was too.

"Deuce, listen … I'm sorry for pushing you away like that."

Dean shook his head almost before Caleb had finished his sentence. "No, I get it. You need to spend time with kids your own age."

Caleb raised an eyebrow. Had Mac been talking to the kid? "Regardless, I didn't have to be a dick about it. You're not a lame little kid and I guess I enjoy your company … for the most part." He couldn't get too girly on this.

Dean pursed his lips together in thoughtfulness. "For the most part."

"But just because you see me making harebrained decisions like smoking, doesn't mean you should follow okay. You could have killed yourself in that barn." If Dean had of gotten hurt because of something stupid Caleb had done he was sure he wouldn't have been able to live with that.

"Same goes for working yourself to death in the hottest part of the day, Dickwad," Dean pointed out.

Caleb grimaced. He was going to be living with a reminder of that for a good few weeks. "Deal." He looked down at his chest and arms, raised the melting iced towel, surprised there was no steam coming off them with their vibrant colour. "So much for charming the girls this summer."

Dean snorted. "You won't have time this summer between you healing, Dad's drills and Pastor Jim's plans for us to fix the mess we created in the barn … summer will be over before we know it."

"Damn," Caleb complained half-heartedly. If he were honest, he was too hot and too sore to give a fuck anyway.

"There is one good thing about all of this," Dean told him, leaning back on the chair with his arms crossed. His lips turned up in a smile.

"And what would that be?"

"We won't need any wood chopped in winter. I think you chopped enough for the next two winters."

Caleb glared at his young friend. "Haha … You're hilarious."

**The End**

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**A/N2:** Well there ya go.** Evy**, I hope you liked it and again Happy Birthday for the 30th! I hope anyone else that read it enjoyed it too and don't by shy ;) Let me know :) Love hearing from you all :)

Happy 31st birthday to **Dean Winchester** on Sunday the 24th of January.

**RIP Pernell Roberts** who died at the age of 81 from Cancer on the 24th of January 2010. Best known as Adam Cartwright on "Bonanza" and Trapper John on "Trapper John MD" – last Cartwright to fall … well done, Pernell. You will be missed.

Also, remember Mine and **Gaelic's** co-written story is still in the works. I forgot to mention last time that it's called **Refuto Monumentum. **I am very excited to get started on that!

Hope all have a great week :) **HAPPY AUSTRALIA DAY!**

**Tara x0x**


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